


His Failsafe

by whatswiththemustache



Series: Whispers from the Waverider [1]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Retrospective, RipFic, angsty thinking, companion to 'Dark Times'
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-22
Updated: 2016-04-22
Packaged: 2018-06-03 20:12:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6624562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatswiththemustache/pseuds/whatswiththemustache
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"This situation - this team - It's more than he could have hoped for. And yet, it still makes him want to <i>tear</i> his own <i>skin</i> off sometimes-"</p><p> A peek at my idea of what might be going on in Rip Hunter's mind as his team of potential heroes begin to settle in. Canon, fits anywhere before episode 7. Companion to "Dark Times".</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Failsafe

They don't know that the walls are closing in.

All of them, his often reluctant, often exuberant and sometimes murderous team, have finally begun to settle, to understand – or really, only _begun_ to understand – what's at stake, exactly what sort of mission they're on. They've gotten past the awe of traveling through time and space, at the very least (though for a few choice members, the novelty might never wear off). They're sort of gotten past fighting amongst themselves – 'sort of' being the key term in play – and have fallen into a kind of routine, amidst the constant missions and crises that came along with them.

It's not at all ideal, but it's more than Rip really could have hoped for, all things considered.

It's more than he could have hoped for and yet, it still makes him want to _tear_ his own _skin_ off sometimes–

They just don't understand. All of them, any of them – well it's not like Rip ever expected the _criminals_ to be at all eager to do good and save the bloody world, so there shouldn't really be much surprise there, but the _others_ – Stein and all his elderly wisdom, Ray with his genius, Sara and her supposed warrior stoicism… They were the ones who were supposed to be _smart_. Rip had hoped they could be the mentors of the others, or at the very least keep them in check–

But more often than not, Professor Stein was the one growing giddy with joy whenever a subject involving _time travel_ or _future technology_ or anything to do with _science_ came up; Ray was constantly cracking lame jokes with that never ending and sometimes _infuriating_ smile of his, spouting scientific diarrhea of the mouth along the way; and _Sara_ , despite the cold exterior that Rip had perceived at first, would be the one mingling with the criminals or kicking back to relax and have a _drink_ –

All of them. They act as if this whole thing is just a great big _field trip_ sometimes, joking and fooling around and _not following orders_ and it all just makes Rip want to _scream_ sometimes–

But he can't, because what kind of captain would he be if he let his emotions get the better of him – and anyway, he _needs_ them, and if _they_ come with constant jokes and dismissal of rules, then so be it.

But still.

_They don't understand._

Every so often his emotions _will_ get the better of him, and he'll snap or say something insensitive or something or another, and then they'll _look_ at him that way – so _knowingly_ , so _righteous_. Rip has always apologized almost immediately after, unless he _can't_ , but that's just the point. They _look_ at him like that, and it's _so_ obvious that they don't get it – they just don't. They don't feel it like he does.

They don't feel the itch that he does, under his skin. Crawling inside his chest, forcing his fingers to twitch – _they_ don't feel the walls closing in. But Rip does. Always. And whenever they joke, or waste time, or _anything_ , he feels it rushing up inside him stronger than ever, urging him to _move_. _Do_ something. Get _out_ there.

And then they'll be on a mission, trying to steal young Stein's research or infiltrate the Pentagon or whatnot, and it seems like the _second_ Rip lets them all out with their _specific orders_ and warnings to _not do anything stupid_ , that everything just goes quite simply to _hell._ Either Snart and his pyromaniac friend would run off to wreak havoc, or Ray would decide to play the hero like an idiot, or Kendra would turn into a bloodthirsty _hawk_ _goddess_ –

Always, everything would fall apart and Rip would be left trying to pick up all the pieces and somehow, rearrange them back into a somewhat passable attempt at what history should look like.

And it wouldn't even seem like it mattered if things _did_ go to plan, because no matter how close they got to Savage, it would never _get_ them anywhere. Rip has already fought him several times since their journey began, and _still_ – he's no closer now to defeating that monster than he ever was. And maybe, ever will be.

And every time things _do_ fall apart – every time that his _team_ decides to not listen to him and do something stupid, every time Savage gets away – every time, the gnawing just gets sharper and sharper, eating away at the hole inside him. And every time, Rip can't help it – he _tries_ to find invigoration, tries to find _some_ reason to be optimistic – but he usually can't, and he can't help it but he just feels more and more exhausted, every time they fail. Exhaustion always finds him and it sends unbearable pangs of guilt, searing down to his very core, because – he _can't_ stop.

There _can't_ be any stop, not until he stops Savage from destroying everything. From destroying his wife, his son. _His family_. He just can't stop, but he's so exhausted he almost wants to. And yet.

The itch, the walls closing in – _they_ won't let him stop, and he's not reached the point where he can ignore those things yet. And when he gets to that point – well, that's where his _team_ should come in handy.

If he's honest with himself, he knows. One of the main reasons for acquiring this ragtag group of 'legends' – one of the larger reasons, if not the first and foremost – was really to keep _him_ , Rip, going. To give himself hope. And, when the time came that he couldn't muster the energy to continue chasing after the ghost that was Savage – well, then, he hoped that _they_ would be the ones to force _him_ to continue. Just imagining it, Rip can already hear Stein's stubborn logic, Jefferson's incredulous remarks, Snart's blunt insults – Sara's flat, straightforward assessment, allowing no room for even a sidestep. After everything, he knows – they won't let him stop.

They're his insurance. His failsafe.

With his _team_ , Rip won't ever stop hunting Savage – even _if_ the exhaustion completely takes over, even _if_ Rip can barely find the strength to move a muscle. _I'll do it anyway_.

For now, he's all right, and the itch is still tearing at his mind, the walls still always creeping closer. Rip can almost take comfort in them, despite the _dis_ comfort – to say the least – because it means that he hasn't given up yet.

And he won't. Not for a while yet.

But in the meantime – he'll just have to watch from the corner of his eye, because _they_ certainly won't see the walls closing in.


End file.
